


Antibodies

by ShannonXL



Series: Bleak Future [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, Apocalypse, Brainwashing, Canon-Typical Violence, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Memory Loss, Murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-14
Updated: 2015-01-14
Packaged: 2018-03-07 14:23:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3175934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShannonXL/pseuds/ShannonXL
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A flashback from Derek's time with Kate, after the world ends. They walk through the remains, and destroy everything in their path.</p><p>This is an outtake from my 'Ornament and a Safeguard' universe. It takes place before the events of that fic, but it probably doesn't make any sense as a stand-alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Antibodies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theletterelle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theletterelle/gifts).



Derek shivers, and opens his eyes.

He doesn’t remember the journey, but his legs ache, and his head is sore. He feels parched. It’s been a couple of days since he’s last rested, he thinks. 

He glances over at Kate, always on his left. There are mud stains crawling up her thighs, but she doesn’t look as tired as he feels. He’s stopped trying to figure out how she manages to do it; traveling with a werewolf at the speed they’ve been going, without getting tired. He knows by now that there are things he doesn’t remember; he’s seen the evidence of what he’s done on his body days later and cringed. But her stamina is a mystery. How is she keeping up with him? He’s decided he doesn’t want to know. She grins sideways, her eyes sparkling in the predawn light. 

“I’ll keep watch for a couple hours. You should rest.”

He sits up, rubbing his fingers against the floor. Soft wood, cleaner than what he’s used to. It doesn’t feel familiar. 

“Do we have enough supplies?”

She hands him the water bottle from her belt.

“We’ll be fine for a few days. Don’t plan on staying long.”

A few days. He closes his eyes and drinks. A few days could mean two, or five. Usually less than a week. So he knows, the next time he wakes up, he’ll only be missing a short amount of time. He holds the water in his mouth before he swallows, trying to reinvigorate the dry cells. What did she say last time? They had a long haul ahead of them. He swallows, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. He’s clean-shaven, so he can’t use his stubble to figure out how long it’s been. Damn. 

“Derek?”

He knows he needs to sleep, but he doesn’t want to. He takes another sip of water.

“I’ll be right back.”

He stands, stretching, and she scoots aside to let him pass. 

Outside, the stars are fading. He unzips his pants, though he doesn’t really need to go, looking up at the sky. Even if he knew anything about the constellations, he doubts he’d be able to track his progress that way. The seasons have been changing faster than they used to, and it feels like the whole world is off kilter. He grits his teeth. Something… is _important_ , there’s something he knows but he can’t quite put together. 

He shakes his head, trying to rid himself of the feeling. 

He feels the moon on his back. He looks at it over his shoulder. It’s thin, setting behind the rocky hills of the horizon. The landscape looks like a place he’s seen in pictures. the Rocky Mountains maybe? The moon is more familiar. It’s the only familiar thing. (He’s acclimated to Kate, but Kate is a nightmare, and sometimes he thinks he’s imagined her, and sometimes he thinks she’s a demon, and she’s there _all the time_ , her scent soaking into his skin, and he knows why, he _knows_ , but she’s not familiar; Kate is a foreign body invading everything, she’s not comfort and intimate, she is a violation). He lost track of the lunar cycles a long time ago. He doesn’t know how many weeks or months (years?) have passed since New York sank into the Atlantic, flooded and burning and collapsing all at once. But the moon is in his blood. He was born with it there. 

He finds a stream by scent, and rinses his hands in the water. They feel stiff and raw, like his skin has recently healed. 

When he returns, Kate is cleaning one of her knives. It smells coppery and sweet. She puts it down when she sees him. He sits across from her. She reaches for him, grabbing his chin, and it feels like something she’s done before. She looks into his eyes, checking for something. He blinks, and it seems like she’s satisfied.

“Lie on your back.”

He closes his eyes, letting her move him where she wants, cringing at the way his body responds. He stares at the ceiling above them, documenting the scent of the air, trying to place the sounds outside. Birds. He can hear trees, and water, and-

“Wait.”

Kate glares as he sits up.

“Derek-”

“There’s someone else here.”

She stiffens, then nods, reaching for the knife at her belt. Derek stands, claws extending. 

Whoever it is, they’re alone. They’re not walking fast, and their heartbeat is steady. Derek closes his eyes. Not far, and their footsteps are lightweight. 

“Human?”

He looks up at Kate.

“Werewolf.”

Her lips twist in a snarling smile.

“You know what to do then, Derek.”

He freezes. Does he? He can’t remember. He doesn’t want to, doesn’t want- but his hands feel tight and sure and he knows he’s been here before. Not here, not this place, but here, with Kate, waiting, while someone alone and unarmed and _not a threat_ walked unwittingly into his claws. 

“Derek.”

She sounds angry.

“Please.”

She doesn’t hear him.

“Attack.”

His body moves without him. His muscles flare and catapult him forwards, lungs burning. He finds him, a kid, barely past sixteen, and Derek doesn’t look into his eyes before he plunges his claws into his gut. He screams, and Derek does his best to end it, snapping his neck. It cuts off the screaming with a wet gurgling sound, and the kid’s body slumps, collapsing into a pile of bloodily limbs on the ground. 

**Author's Note:**

> Gifted because your comments keep me going through my least favorite part of the writing process: editing. Thank you!


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